M S Nazki
By M S Nazki
‘ We had just been posted to an area that scenically looked great, both on this and other side of the LOC! Those were the days when the Russian bear hug in Afghanistan was getting loose on its grasp, with Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo franchise landing in Afghanistan and making even the fiction look true. Yep! The Kalashnikov culture was running berserk and slowly but steadily it had seeped into Jammu and Kashmir and was haunting Rajouri. In the valley it had made an impact but on this side of the Pir Panjals the rippling effects could be felt and slowly but steadily we had realized that the storm was brewing up! The then Governor of Jammu and Kashmir Jagmohan’s frozen turbulence had arrived in Rajouri!’
-‘On taking over the Company Post after all the necessary formalities the outgoing Company Commander took me on the visits to the villages and told me about various families, some very friendly, some not so and some absolutely psyched out’!
-‘I knew that the enemy meant business as they would open up fire at their own whims and fancies. That usually irked me and then that afternoon I thought that it was time that we too get into this bullet melee business. It was a game, played for fantastic stakes, infiltrating the marauders with Klashnikovs was what the men across wanted and we were in competition with lunatic experts of firing and flying lead all over. That was also the first day I met Abida as she told me in the local dialect, ‘If you want to win, you have to learn to be a master of the game here’! I just smiled and told her politely, do you always throw your words away like this? If yes then you are good, you said master of the game, I will try to become one!’
-‘I was talking about the afternoon, just from the enemy post across from where the firing began and the Post was Peer. I was with my platoon there and having lunch. I kept having it till I finished and then called the Platoon commander, if they are firing then why are we holding back our index fingers. If they want a reply let us give them a suitable one! After that we never held back! Yes I did get a walloping from the commanding officer the next day but over a glass of rum everything became normal but I did make it a point to tell the Commanding Officer, I am not the cleverest, smartest or most talented person in the world, but I do most of the times succeed because I keep going and going and going. If they fire, they are bound to get an immediate reply! They got it every time till the time I was there!’
-‘The one morning as I was on a routine patrol, Abida came running to me and asked, ‘Sahib can you see something unusual around?’ I had no idea as to what she was saying but then indicated to me a a maroon bed sheet spread over a tin roof of a house which was very close to the LOC! What is special about that? I asked and the response was immediate, ‘it is an Ishara (signal) to someone across and that means that either the family is migrating to Nakial camp or someone is coming tonight! Trust me Sahab, something is going to happen tonight. The first chance to prove that you are the master of the game’!
-‘ I had read somewhere ‘if’ is two-letter word for futility. She could be right or could be wrong but there is a silly quality in me I thought, I always believed that any success in life is made by going into an area with a blind and furious optimism.’! I was going to do exactly that at midnight!’
-‘That night was our first successful mission. We got six young boys who were being ferried across for training and the man tasked to do so was Mohammed Alam-din. He was arrested and so were the boys’!
-‘Next day evening, we visited Abida’s house. Her father was the chowkidar of the village and was addressed by the same name. It was basically to thank the young girl for that small tip when she indicated the red bed sheet and it was here when she told me after serving the delicious salty tea with maize bread with huge dollops of fresh white butter, ‘Sahab you don’t know what can happen tomorrow. Life is like a novel, isn’t it? It’s filled with suspense. You never know what’s going to happen until you turn the page.’
-‘It was hardly a month since we had arrived but why was the family, especially Abida helping us? I wanted to ask her but could not yet one day I did, ‘why do you keep providing us with small tit bits of information, aren’t you scared?’ In a typical Abida style she replied, don’t walk in front of me… I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me… I may not lead. Walk beside me… just be my friend’! Sure enough she was a true friend till one day………….and that day I thought that everything she was doing for us with a purpose, for someone whom she loved, someone who was her closest mate, her elder sister, brutalized by men from across! Flashing in my mind came to my mind the words she had said in one of her many short conversations she had with me, when we die no one will ever know that once we lived. Not even you Sahab!’ The little naughty brat who knew everything about each and every house in Tarkundi and Datote!
- ‘Both the villages now are vibrant but thirty two years back it was just one girl vibrating and fuelling others to smile, smile and keep smiling!’
-‘This story was recited to me by one of my course mates who now is doing well as a restaurateur and it was in his restaurant in Jammu he told me this story! He always was fond of food and loved preparing some great delicacies in officers’ mess/outdoor exercises but never in our wildest of dreams we had ever thought that he will get into the gourmet business and I into the playfield of twenty six alphabets!
Again the narration is of RS and the written part of the same is of Kulbir Jamwal! Once upon a time both Majors in the elite Indian Army!
Abida enjoyed solitude, but loneliness was a constant ache for her! On seeing her I could make out that when someone has an urge to talk freely in times when things were not at all bright in this part of the country it means that he/she knows one more language of secrets than we do. I one day did ask her, ‘I think there is something in your heart but you have not come out with. If I can help you rather all of us in the unit, we would be obliged’. She smiled and replied, times moves at its own measured pace, for it has no reason to hurry. Tomorrow will come in its own good time. Why not discuss the whole thing at an appropriate time!’ I had to wait and finally the time did arrive!
That day she was standing by a grave just in her mud and wood house courtyard. She had called me to be there in the morning if I could! I did make it a point to be there for a short period of time. It was the death anniversary of her sister Rashida. It was a solemn occasion and that was perhaps for the first time I was seeing tears rolling down her eyes in a nonstop way! Her mother was consoling her; she was the second eldest amongst the five sisters. The eldest was eternally sleeping under the grave. It was here she spilled out the reality in a way only she could, some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure’! Rashida was bruised, battered and killed by men from across who had barged into their house!
As we were about to leave the insane men across in the bunkers began their firing routine! We had to respond but before we could do that one invisible lead spider flying at high velocity got Abida. We had no option but to evacuate her and she was to the road head and subsequently to the Government hospital in Rajouri after an elaborate treatment by our own RMO. She survived the horrifying ordeal! The family shifted to Rajouri where they still stay in Dharal!
I thought the story was over but it was not! My friend then indicated to me a smart middle aged lady monitoring things from behind the cash counter. You know who is she Major? ‘Not at all Major Rajiv?’ ‘She is Abida, the girl I was talking about for the past hour’! After retirement I along with my wife and two daughters had gone to Rajouri and found the whereabouts of the family. Her father had passed away and the family was somehow managing the affairs. The chowkidar was running a provisional store which her mother and younger sister’s were taking care of and Abida had picked up the art of tailoring! It was here I asked her if she would like to work with us. She gladly nodded and now she is the chief assistant of my wife as they are the ones who run this restaurant as I’m planning another one and am half way through on it as Jammu expands rapidly and the food business thrives!’
It was now my turn to speak and I began, R I think if I’ve learned anything about friendship in this tale, it’s to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired, don’t take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff’! It indeed was and is!
Author
The Kashmir Dialogues
